


North Star, Guide Me Home

by banditess



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Feels, Ardyn is Salty, Brotherly Angst, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Torture, Panic Attacks, Somnus is a Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banditess/pseuds/banditess
Summary: Something has called Ardyn to the Crown City. He arrives to investigate, and finds something both less and more than what he expected.My contribution to the 2nd Anniversary festivities: A reaction to the Episode Ardyn teaser -- takes place ~30 years prior to the end of the game. Spoilers for the whole dang thing at this point. :)





	North Star, Guide Me Home

_Home sweet home.  
  
_ It looked not a damn thing like the home he had been ripped from two thousand years ago. This unfamiliar place was all sterile concrete and bright, artificial lights as far as the eye could see. It didn’t even _smell_ the same. Why was there not a single tree to be found? Where had the birds and all the other creatures gone? What had happened to the lush fields where he and his brother--  
  
\-- _His brother_.  
  
 _Somnus_ , he hissed to himself. The very thought of that traitor's name made Ardyn’s immortal gut roil and seethe like a bubbling geyser, ready to blow.  
  
But he had not come back to reminisce; something had summoned him. It whispered in his ear, called to him in a tongue he understood only if he listened with his eyes closed. Once he opened them again, all that remained was a sense of urgency in the pit of his stomach, and a singular directive in his mind: _This way_.  
  
Ardyn continued walking, down the streets that _should_ have been _his_. He wound down and around the city blocks, his eyes scanning the overwhelming multitude of signs along the roads. He didn’t know exactly where he was headed, but he had passed several guideposts pointing him in the direction of a _Citadel_ , which felt like the right way to go. He pressed on.  
  
The closer Ardyn got to the Citadel, the more people he felt surrounding him. The normal hum of city life grew louder as the concentration of people increased. Automobiles were honking, men were shouting at one another -- not angrily, it seemed, but just trying to be heard over the noise. Several blocks back Ardyn had thought he heard a faint melody. Now, the horns and drums were ringing in his ears so viciously, Ardyn was certain they must have been playing inside his skull rather than somewhere just out of sight.  
  
What _was_ all of this ruckus for, anyhow? It had been a few years now since the Niflheim army had come across him at Angelgard, but he had never quite readjusted to the flow of days and nights, or _time_ as a discrete concept, for that matter, so he had no idea if this particular date was special, or why. All he knew was that it was irritating, and he wished the whispers would have told him to head in the direction opposite all the commotion -- but alas, he felt it pulling him further in.  
  
He rounded a corner, thankful that he seemed to have found a small, quiet side street -- and stopped dead in his tracks. There, in full battle regalia -- horned helm over his face and sword in hand -- stood his brother. _Somnus, the Mystic, whose deeds in battle were so miraculous, they were said to have been aided by magic…  
  
_ Ardyn had instinctively drawn a dagger from his Armiger the moment he saw the familiar horns. (They had been modeled after the Draconian's. How could he forget them.) He had pointed the dagger at Somnus’ breastplate, where several garlands of colorful flowers hung across his chest -- but after an uncomfortable minute of complete stillness and a few deep breaths, Ardyn consciously realized what he already subconsciously knew: This was only a statue, and he was lunging at ghosts. He scowled. Gritting his teeth, he turned around to move on--  
  
\--and was faced with his brother _again_. This time his unarmored visage smiled brightly on a banner waving in the wind. It had been unfurled from the third story of the building and left to sway and twist as it pleased. _Just like Somnus_ , Ardyn thought. Above his brother's _stupid_ head, depicted here with the crown he had stolen, were a few words in a bold, regal script:  
  
 _Founder's Day Festival  
  
_ _Founder’s_ Day. To see Somnus’ face with that epithet attached to it was... _galling_ , to say the extreme least. Ardyn felt the boiling rage in his gut again. Tendrils of shadow peeked out tentatively from his clenched fists, pleading to be set loose.  
  
He was brought back to himself by a tug at his sleeve.  
  
“Are you okay, mister?”  
  
A young boy, chestnut-haired and fair-skinned, probably no older than ten, gazed up at him with concern. His lips pouted slightly, as though he might cry for Ardyn. Ardyn sincerely hoped he would not -- he needed no one’s pity, much less a _child’s_.  
  
“Why yes, I’m just fine. I thank you for asking, young man.” Ardyn squatted down to the boy’s eye level. From this height, he could see the boy held something in his hand: a small, caped figure. Sword in one hand. A familiar horned helm adorning its head.  
  
 _Six be damned_ , could he not escape?  
  
The boy noticed Ardyn’s deep, weary sigh at the sight of his toy. Misunderstanding entirely, he looked down at the figure in his hand, pondered a moment, and then held it out in offering. “Here -- you can have it. I got one at Founder’s Day last year, too, so I guess I don’t really need another. Lucis only has _one_ Founder King anyway. Right?”  
  
“ _Indeed_ ,” Ardyn said through clenched teeth.  
  
The boy placed the figure carefully into his hand. Ardyn closed his fingers over it, a little _too_ tightly -- he could feel its arms bending slightly in his grip. “I promise to take _good care_ of him. Now run along -- your parents will surely be fretting over you.”  
  
The boy smiled, clearly pleased with his good deed. He trotted off, pausing midway to turn back and wave. Ardyn tipped his hat in reply, and the boy disappeared around a corner.  
  
Ardyn looked at the small toy. What a surreal thing, to hold a facsimile of one’s long-dead flesh and blood in the palm of one’s hand. To know, _intimately_ , the places where the reproduction had gotten it wrong, and where the details were _painfully_ correct.  
  
He could not hold the tendrils back this time. They consumed the statuette of Somnus, lighting it with a purple-black flame. The horns of his elaborate helm were the first to melt, and the rest of his body followed suit. His sword was the last to go, sinking into the pool of liquefied plastic that ran off the side of Ardyn’s gloved hand. Ardyn laughed quietly as it dribbled to the concrete below.  
  
It was but a drop in the metaphorical bucket, but it did feel _so good_.  
  
 _This way_ , the whispers implored. They were upset -- he had gone too long without moving.  
  
Taking advantage of the low foot traffic of the side street, he took a running leap and warped along the walls of the nearest buildings, bouncing between them until he reached the rooftops. He took a deep breath. The relative quiet at the top was...better. He leaned over the edge and quickly surveyed his surroundings.  
  
He saw it then: a grand skyscraper, taller than all else surrounding it. The Citadel, Ardyn presumed. The damn thing reeked of the lavish excesses he imagined his brother’s progeny had been privy to these two millennia. Meanwhile, he had hung from chains that pierced and bound him both _in_ and _to_ the darkness, his only companion the sound of the waves breaking against the shores of Angelgard.  
  
An invisible thread pulled on Ardyn’s chest, tugging him towards the Citadel.  
  
 _There_ , the whispers declared.  
  
Though he’d had some passing worries about keeping a low profile, he was in a veritably _foul_ mood, and he decided it would be more conspicuous for him to kill a man in the street for bumping into him than it would be for him to continue warping from rooftop to rooftop. And so he jumped forward, becoming a flash of magenta against the blue sky as he phased in and out from building to building.  
  
Ardyn stopped when he felt something against his face as he warped in. He reached up and pulled the offending item from his cheek. A small square of brightly-colored paper… He looked up just in time to catch another out of the air. Was this...confetti? There seemed to be more, floating up on the breeze from the street below, along with the sound of thundering drums and trumpeting horns. He recognized the tune as the far-off melody he had heard earlier from across the city. Though it was even louder now that it was right in front of him, the _acoustics_ were at least better now that he wasn't _miles away_...  
  
A sudden roar of applause and cheers caught his attention. Observing from his perch, he could see a crowd of people lined up along the side of the street. A procession of sleek black automobiles was about a block down the road. He waited as they slowly drove closer. Close enough for him to see the two crowned figures -- a man and a woman, in formal dress -- waving from the central vehicle in the convoy.  
  
 _There_ , the whispers told him. But at this point he didn't need anyone, much less voices in his head, to tell him what he was looking for -- or in this case, _whom_. He would have to have been blind to have not seen what was in front of him, would have to have finally escaped into the sweet embrace of death to have not _felt_ the Crystal's power radiating from the direction of the caravan below. And in its center, a dark-haired man who sat waving to his _adoring subjects_.  
  
Was _this_ the Regis Lucis Caelum -- and his queen, Aulea -- that Verstael had briefed him on?  
  
Ardyn started to grin. He put a hand to his mouth, as though trying to hold back the strange feeling of elation that was bubbling to the surface, but his grin split into a full smile. He fell backwards, chuckling atop the roof.  
  
After all this time, this was the face of the man who would release him. What _terrible_ facial hair he had! But at least he looked _somewhat_ noble. Not at all what Ardyn had expected -- but he would do.  
  
He followed along as the car made its way along the parade route, occasionally warping ahead and then allowing the convoy to catch up with him. Not once did he let them out of his sight. Ardyn wished to see this king _up close_.  
  
He did not get his chance until many hours later, after the commotion of the festival had calmed and the security surrounding the Citadel had relaxed somewhat. Not that the security was much of a problem for him; the guards were quite surprised to be defending themselves against someone with Ardyn’s skills -- abilities so like their liege’s, yet somehow... _eerily_ dissimilar.  
  
Ardyn subdued them quickly and moved on.  
  
Turning a corner, Ardyn nearly gave himself away as he almost literally stumbled upon the King poring over stacks of paper in his study. He hadn’t realized the hallway he’d been following ended with the entrance to the room. One way in and out. It worked well for security, for this very reason. But Ardyn was quiet as death, and Regis was absorbed in his work -- he had not heard Ardyn approach.  
  
Though he was pressed awkwardly against the wall outside, Ardyn still had a fairly clear view of the part of the room he needed to see. This close to the King, Ardyn could see the Ring he bore -- and could feel the power of the Crystal emanating from it. _Not_ from _Regis_ , but from the Ring itself. And it was not nearly so strong as it had been during the parade earlier.  
  
Ardyn sighed, dejected. This was not the King of Light he sought after all. Perhaps in another generation or two.  
  
He had just peeled himself from the wall and taken a few steps back down the hallway when he heard a soft, creaking noise behind him. Craning his head towards it, he saw the crowned woman who had been in the car with the king -- Queen Aulea, Ardyn recalled -- joining her husband in the study, slinking in through a side door Ardyn had not noticed previously.  
  
He felt it then, like a goblin-punch to his face -- the energy that had been present during the parade had returned full-force as soon as she had entered the room. But he didn’t understand...the only ones who could hold the Power of Kings, and therefore the only ones who would be able to fulfill the Prophecy, were scions of the Lucis Caelum line…  
  
Aulea slid her hands across her King’s back, squeezing his shoulders tenderly. He looked up at her with a warm expression, leaning his head back against his chair and reaching over to place his hand on her belly.  
  
“And how is our little prince today?” asked Regis.  
  
“He was kicking a bit earlier, but he is quiet now,” Aulea answered. “I think he is napping.”  
  
“We could all do with one of those, I think.” Regis gave her a wry smile.  
  
 _Oh_. So the Queen was with child, hmm? Then _this_ King was but a _Pawn_. Now wasn’t that a _twist_.  
  
This time, Ardyn _did_ give himself away. He had started laughing, too -- a low, rueful laugh that echoed quite ominously through the room.  
  
Regis stood before his queen protectively, instructing her to run. She ducked back through the side door, closing it tightly behind herself just as Regis summoned a sword with an elaborate, winged hilt to his hand. “Who is there? Show yourself!”  
  
“Ah, it’s all so _clear_ to me now.” Ardyn shuffled into the room, trailing a finger down the spines of the books on the shelf. “I can't believe I didn't see this _sooner_ , quite frankly. _You_ \-- with your perfect, beautiful queen and your _ridiculous_ beard -- _you_ shall not be the one to release me from this living Hell.”  
  
Ardyn stepped closer. Regis lunged at him, but Ardyn blocked with his own magenta-tinged sword. He tried to catch Ardyn with a dagger to the side -- and catch him he did. The dagger sank partway into Ardyn’s ribcage. Any normal man would have staggered, doubled over, coughed up blood -- _anything_ \--  
  
The King’s eyes went wide with shock as Ardyn simply chuckled, as though he’d been tickled.  
  
“Oh no, young King. That simply _won’t do_. And don’t bother trying the Ring on me, either.” Ardyn grinned. He let his own sword disappear and pulled the dagger from his flank. It dripped not red with blood, but _tarry black_. “I know what it will take to kill me, and though you certainly possess power, yours alone will _never_ be enough to stop me.”  
  
He pushed Regis back and to the side, pinning him onto his wide oak desk. Papers fluttered to the ground in disarray. Ardyn’s hands curled into the King’s shirt to hold him down. Black flames coiled around his fingers, but did not singe a single thread.  
  
“I have felt it -- It will be your _son_ who will become the last vessel, one final sacrifice on the altar of the Lucis Caelum name. He will _atone_ for the _sins_ of his forebears. He will be chosen by the Crystal, and he will _suffer_ for it, as _I_ have suffered!” Ardyn hissed.  
  
Once he was satisfied he had adequately intimidated the man, Ardyn pulled Regis up from the desk by his shirt collar and set him on the ground.  
  
“But as much as I _long_ to kill you, to get a _good start_ on erasing all the things my _bastard_ brother built, young King -- you are a necessary piece in the long game ahead.” Ardyn smiled cruelly. “At least, you are _for now_.”  
  
Regis’s face was white as a sheet. He struggled to move and found he could not -- Ardyn had bound him to the spot.  
  
“So this is it, then,” said the King, “the Prophecy my father told me before he died. The beginning of the dark times spoken of in the Cosmogony.”  
  
“‘ _Dark times_.’ Hmph. What would _any_ of you _fools_ know of _darkness_?” Ardyn spat. He moved towards the exit. The entrance? One way in, one way out. “I shall take my leave for now. This has been a _very_ informative homecoming. I do _so_ look forward to visiting again -- perhaps in a few months’ time, on news of a certain Royal Birth?”  
  
 _That_ set Regis off. He strained against his invisible bonds, grunting and groaning but not budging an inch -- until Ardyn had warped himself back down the hall and out of the tower entirely, at which point he snapped his fingers. Back in the study, the King fell forward, barely catching himself as he hit the ground.  
  
Gazing down at the lamp-lit city from his perch, watching life move along below without him, Ardyn considered his next move. Waiting for this prince to be born, and grow, and come of age would take years. But he had waited so long already -- what _more_ harm would a few _additional_ years do to him that had not already been done? Besides, there were other pieces to the puzzle that would be required to fall into place in order to be __completely certain that everything proceeded without incident. Plans as complex as these took time.  
  
Luckily, time was all he had these days.  
  
  


\--~--  


  
  
After the Prince’s birth, the Crown City buzzed with excitement, and an official Name Day ceremony was planned. As expected, people turned out for it on the day of in droves, not just from Insomnia and greater Lucis, but from all across Eos. Even representatives from Tenebrae and Accordo had been invited, and the Oracle herself came, ready to bestow the blessings of the Six on the newborn boy.  
  
Niflheim was _mysteriously_ left out of the invitations, and yet Ardyn found himself officially-unofficially Gralea’s representative in Insomnia yet again. Though he would have been here for this occasion either way. Wouldn’t have missed it for the _world_ , in fact.  
  
 _Home sweet home_ , he thought bitterly, once again following the whispers in his ears, the magnetic pull of power he could feel tugging from deep in his chest. This time, he knew they would bring him exactly where he needed to go.  
  
He made it to the Citadel just in time for the King and Queen’s procession. Large projection screens had been set up in order for spectators even far in the back of the crowd to be able to see what was happening on the stage up front. Ardyn, himself at the back, was glad to see Regis had kept his facial hair. Perhaps it was out of spite for him and what he’d said about it when last they’d met? Aulea was just as beautiful as she had been those months ago. Ardyn could see the dark circles under both of their eyes even from so many yards away, and they looked far worse blown up on the massive screens -- but he supposed the citizens would forgive the new parents for their visible exhaustion.  
  
Around him, the crowd whispered and gossiped: _Did the baby take after his mother or father? What had they named him? Had they decorated his nursery with chocobos or moogles? Whichever it was, it was sure to be the new baby craze of the year--  
  
_ “Thank you, citizens of Lucis, and our friends from around Eos, for joining us on this very special occasion,” Aulea spoke into the microphone before her. “We know you are all quite eager, so we won’t keep you waiting.”  
  
The audience cheered and clapped gleefully. From behind the royal couple, a maidservant appeared, carrying a bundle, well-swaddled in black cloth. Softly, she handed the bundle over to Aulea before bowing and ducking out of the way.  
  
“We are delighted to introduce to you our son,” Regis announced. “Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Lucis, one hundred and fourteenth heir to the throne.”  
  
The camera panned over to the baby in Aulea’s arms. The newborn Prince rested, oblivious to the eyes of the world on him, downy black hair and one sleepy eye half-open -- one _sapphire blue_ eye. And the angle of his tiny jaw... Ardyn wasn’t certain whether he even had a heart anymore, or if it truly pumped, but he knew the sight on the screen would have made it stop cold if he had. He had forgotten so many things while he was in the dark, so much of the time before, but this babe on the screen -- oh, he _remembered_. He remembered his own mother, holding his little brother just like this, with his black hair and blue eyes.  
  
So _unlike_ Ardyn’s.  
  
This boy, this _Noctis_ , he would be the one who would break Ardyn from the wheel of immortality -- he _must_ be. He was the spitting image of Somnus, for fuck’s sake. One final, _cruel_ jest from the gods: that his Liberator should bear the face of his Condemner.  
  
Ardyn looked back to the stage. The crowd had parted just enough that there was a clear line of sight from him all the way to Regis, who must have sensed the shift in energy -- the Power of Kings was mystical that way. He looked up and locked eyes with Ardyn. They would not trade blows here -- not today.  
  
“With the Blessings of the Six and the Light of the Crystal, we hope he will grow to be a fine Prince -- and, one day, a fine King -- and that he will live a _long_ , _happy life_ serving his kingdom,” Regis intoned, his gaze never once leaving Ardyn’s.  
  
Behind him, the Oracle Sylva Via Fleuret lit incense to the Six for extra effect. As though the Draconian gave a single bladed _shit_ about the scent of primrose.  
  
Ardyn rolled his eyes and tried his best not to laugh out loud at the dog and pony show. _Truly_ , he did. He shrugged at the young King and disappeared into the crowd. Regis knew what was coming. One day, he would have to accept its inevitability. Perhaps in a few more years...  
  
  
  
\--~--  
  
  
  
By the next time Ardyn felt the familiar tug from the center of his being, he had mastered the ability to at least _feign_ to his peers in Gralea that he noticed the passage of days and nights. The truth was, however, that he was quite uncertain how long it had been since the last time he had paid the Crown City a visit. Three years? Perhaps even five? Either way, it had been some time, but just as the whispers had summoned him previously, they called him once again. Back to Insomnia.  
  
( _Insomnia_. Honestly, it made Ardyn gag every time, and he refused to call the city by that name when he spoke to others on principle. He wondered if Somnus had had the temerity to name the city after himself while he was still alive, or if one of his descendents had named it in his memory. Regardless, it was an _affront_.)  
  
He arrived early on a gray morning, a light rain drizzling over the city. Ardyn stood atop the colonnades surrounding the forecourt of the Citadel, parasol in hand. The mood of the city had shifted. The past several times he had come to town, it had been a celebratory atmosphere, full of life. Today, it was as though word had spread of some city-wide day of grieving. The forecourt itself was empty but for one slick black car parked in the center. It had been blocked to traffic by metal portcullises lowered from the colonnade beneath Ardyn's feet.  
  
 _Home sweet home.  
  
_ Movement at the base of the Citadel caught Ardyn's attention. Turning to look, he saw Regis exiting the building in a rush, as though trying to get away from something as quick as he could, carrying something in his arms. Though it had only been a few years, he looked _much_ older than he had when Ardyn had first come across him that night in the study. The stresses of ruling while raising a child, plus the repercussions of the Crystal draining his life force from him seemed to be taking their toll.  
  
As Regis turned, Ardyn could see the burden he bore in his arms was his little black-haired boy. The child was fast asleep, curled up with his head leaned against Regis’s shoulder. Ardyn felt his legs turning to jelly at the sight of him. He had grown quite a bit since Ardyn had seen him last, a babe of barely a month old, still in swaddling clothes. He had looked so much like Somnus even then -- but _now_ , the resemblance was _bloody uncanny_.  
  
Ardyn hadn’t noticed that his breathing had started to quicken. He wasn’t moving, but now he could swear the world was beginning to spin without him; the edges of his sight were blurring. He swayed unsteadily, and a few moments was all it took before he staggered, dropping to one knee. Trying to regain his equilibrium, he shut his eyes.  
  
When he opened them again, he was no longer in the Crown City of Insomnia. And yet...he was. He was chasing his brother in a field of tall grass, the kind that once grew where skyscrapers now stood. And he was, likewise, himself but _not_ himself; he was young, a child again. Somnus could not have been older than five, running clumsily away from him. He had given Somnus a headstart, taken it easy on him -- because wasn’t that what big brothers were for? In the end, though, Ardyn had found his brother easily because Somnus couldn’t stop _giggling._ Ardyn smiled, reached out his hand to Somnus, to pull his brother up from the ground--  
  
\--and his brother, a man grown, took his hand, jerked it forward, and clamped a manacle onto his wrist.  
  
Ardyn, an adult once more, had been stripped to the waist and was covered stem to stern in weeping wounds. He would have shouted, but he had already screamed himself hoarse. Now, he was just tired. Somnus pulled on his other hand, ready to shackle that wrist, too.  
  
 _It’s for the good of all, Brother. And for your own good, too.  
  
_ Maybe he was right. He was just _so tired_. Ardyn closed his eyes--  
  
\--and opened them again to the gloomy Insomnian morning, rain dripping _pitter-patter_ against the glove of his outstretched hand. Ardyn bit his tongue to stop himself from shouting his brother’s name aloud. His whole chest tightened.  
  
 _Somnus is_ dead _,_ he chided himself. _And even if he were not, there would be no returning to those halcyon days of yore, you_ absolute fool _.  
  
_ Suddenly, Regis looked directly up at him, as though he’d been alerted to Ardyn’s presence. (Had Somnus whispered in his ear? Ardyn wondered.) Ardyn could see the tears in the King’s glassy eyes, the recognition of his situation and his despondency at it in the lines of his face. His expression became one of desperation.  
  
 _Oh_ , but Ardyn _did_ hate to say _I told you so_.  
  
“Isn't there anything I can do?” Regis shouted up at him.  
  
“Hmph. Why don’t you ask your precious _Kings_? Your beloved _Crystal_? Your blessed _gods_? Pray to them for salvation and see what you get.” Ardyn sneered, then shook his head slowly. He removed his hat and bowed. “We will see each other again, Regis. _Do_ take care -- I doubt our next meeting will be on such _amicable_ terms.”  
  
He turned on his heel and walked away, twirling his parasol by its handle. And though he _intimately_ understood how it felt to be suddenly informed that you have a terrible destiny you cannot change, he found he could not bring himself to care one whit about anything but the great work to come. The blasted Crystal, the cursed Astrals, the entire forsaken Star -- he would tear them all down and watch them _burn_. And sometime in the future, when his plans had come to fruition and the flames rose high all around them, the boy-prince would come to him a man -- a __King. And on that day, he would look into that King’s eyes and hope that somewhere, someway, through this bond of fate they all shared, Somnus would feel their torment, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> This was inspired by a few things -- mostly the Episode Ardyn teaser (GET HYPE Y'ALL), but also the Royal Edition Insomnia dungeon additions, and definitely the Dawn trailer.
> 
> The title of the fic is from the IAMX song ["North Star."](https://youtu.be/FLmC2hSRwKM) Please check it out and holler with me about what a great Ardyn song it is. (^^)b
> 
> Finally, since this is being posted for the FFXV Second Anniversary, I wanted to say a Big Huge Thank You to all of you readers for continuing to be so awesome. It's been a wild ride, but this fandom has been a fantastic home, and even if March 2019 marks the "final" official release for the game, with your support of everyone's fanworks, I'm sure there will still be plenty of great content to go around.
> 
> Be well, y'all. ♥


End file.
